Oakland's raucous rallies and meandering marches over the past week once again have made the city stand out as a hotbed of radical activism, this time in response to the acquittal of a Florida man who killed an unarmed black teen.

In contrast to the haphazard Occupy protests of the past two years, these latest demonstrations -- organized in part by an emerging black rights group called ONYX -- have had a more focused message demanding justice for Trayvon Martin and other young black men. But the new movement has also shared Occupy Oakland's inability, and sometimes unwillingness, to deter fringe activists whose late-night bouts of vandalism have turned off residents otherwise sympathetic to the calls for racial justice.

Those troubles began to wane Friday and Saturday as more peaceful, organized marches replaced nights of destruction.

Among those pleased by the change was Kazu Haga, an Oakland resident whose comments on social media criticizing the protests last week sparked wide discussion.

"There are so many people who are clearly outraged with what happened with Trayvon Martin, but because of what happened in the previous marches, it's turning people away from wanting to come out and speak out," Haga said in an interview. After participating in some of last week's protests, he wanted a safer alternative to "aimlessly walking around with no plan, people wondering where we're going, walking through clouds of sage/fireworks/weed/cigarette smoke. I'm sometimes not clear if I'm at a protest or a party."

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Bobby Seale, who cofounded the Black Panther Party in Oakland in the 1960s and today is something of a radical elder statesman, also found some of last week's events distasteful.

"Small businesses are part of the community," he said. "For an anarchist in the present day to jump on these businesses downtown, they're wrong. They're wrong. I don't believe in riots. I don't believe in anarchy."

The 76-year-old former Panther chairman recalled embracing some businesses as allies in the 1960s, boycotting others, but never attacking them.

It wasn't clear whether last week's vandalism was directly connected to protest participants, or if it was the work of a few isolated vandals. While the marches had a focused message, their leadership, organization and methods were harder to ascertain. But they appeared to draw participants from a wider spectrum than some earlier demonstrations.

"What we're seeing is a lot of brand-new faces, instead of just the same 200 faces at every protest in Oakland," said activist Cat Brooks of ONYX, who helped organize the rallies. "People's humanity is breaking out," she said. "Race very much was part of the Trayvon Martin tragedy. Race has been broken apart with the response."

But Brooks did not condemn vandalism when asked during Monday's evening rally.

"Stop killing folks, maybe they will stop breaking windows," she said, before taking a microphone and shouting the same message to a cheering crowd.

By late Monday night, the long and mostly festive protest had again descended into chaotic vandalism and violence. But on Friday night, a miles-long march also spearheaded by ONYX ended with a calm prayer circle at the Fruitvale BART station, the site of the killing of another unarmed black young man, Oscar Grant III. City officials say the amorphous nature of the earlier events made them much harder to control.

"I'm not sure that these groups necessarily have leaders," said Sean Whent, Oakland's interim police chief, speaking at a Wednesday news conference. "In the past, the Police Department has been able to deploy negotiators and work with leaders of these groups. Then we could usually facilitate peaceful marches."

Even in the Panthers era, remembered for violent confrontations between armed activists and police, Seale said protests were far more organized. Before one big march in the 1960s from Lake Merritt to West Oakland's DeFremery Park, Seale said he spoke by phone with Oakland's police chief to ensure a clear and peaceful path for the crowd.

Now, however, Whent said "we have people that attach themselves to these groups that really can't be controlled effectively by people in that group."

City leaders frequently blame "outside agitators" for fomenting the mayhem, a reference to hard-core activists -- many of them white -- from San Francisco, the suburbs and other states motivated by anti-capitalism and other causes.

"The rest of the country probably thinks it was Oaklanders who were involved in the violence, and it probably has not been," Oakland Mayor Jean Quan said at a news conference last week.

The vandals "get off" from the ongoing media coverage of their actions and the national attention it brings, Quan said.

Meanwhile, others are looking for another way and inserting their voices amid the din. On Friday evening, Mike Jones stood with nearly a dozen other African-American men in dress shirts, ties and suits in front of Oakland City Hall to send a message against the profiling and negative portrayal of black men. They mingled and debated with more radical protesters, and were surprised when they were invited to take the stage.

The rally was to "let the public know there are a lot of black males doing something good with their lives rather than tearing down the city," said Jones, a youth pastor at Pleasant Grove Baptist Church in West Oakland. "Our goal is to support one another, rather than compete with one another."

At the Youth Radio community news station downtown, where vandals shattered windows earlier in the week, artists on Thursday and Friday painted a vibrant mural of Trayvon Martin. And on Saturday, a peaceful Oakland march tied to the Rev. Al Sharpton's National Action Network was organized by young activists who said hateful messages would not be welcome.

"We don't make history by tearing down our city," Jones said. "We have to find a better way to have our voices heard."